In Cold Blood
by catatoniccat
Summary: John, Chas, and Zed team up with Jim Corrigan to investigate a series of violent murders in New Orleans.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Here we go, a new story! I enjoyed writing the other one so much that I thought I'd do another! Plus I really miss this show. This story will take place after 1x13, but it's not necessarily a sequel to my previous Constantine fanfic. Enjoy!_

It felt good to be back in art class. Zed smiled to herself as she sat in front of the large white canvas, her pencil flowing smoothly across the paper. She occasionally looked up to study the assortment of fruits on the table at the front of the room, then returned her focus to the charcoal sketch taking form in front of her. She enjoyed these rare occasions when she was able to go into town and attend an art class like a normal person. Although the mill house felt like home to her now, it was nice to forget about the world of monsters and demons that seemed to have become a routine part of her life, even if it was only for a few hours. It was comical even, she noted to herself with a smirk, that she could be sketching something as mundane as pears and grapes next to a teapot when she was so used to much darker subjects.

The rising darkness was always at the back of her mind, an intruding thought that occasionally came to the forefront of her consciousness. But it had been a while now since she, John, and Chas had had to deal with something otherworldly. She grinned to herself and leaned closer to her easel as she recalled John's stir-crazy attitude throughout the last few days. Just the other night, he had wanted to go out to some random cemetery in the hopes of finding a wayward spirit to send back to the other side. But Chas had quickly shot that idea down, insisting that trouble would likely find them soon enough. And Zed knew he was probably right.

She had become so absorbed in her wandering thoughts that she didn't notice the pair of eyes peering over her shoulder.

"That's amazing!" A voice spoke suddenly.

Zed spun around to see a redheaded girl admiring her work, her eyes open wide in wonder. "I wish I could draw like that," the girl continued, finally peeling her eyes away from the canvas to smile at Zed.

"Thank you," Zed replied with a shy smile. It wasn't often that she received recognition for her artistic talent—her usual pieces were too dark and macabre to share with anyone, save John and Chas.

The redheaded girl gazed at Zed's sketch a moment longer before returning to her own canvas. Zed smiled to herself, then turned to look back at her charcoal sketch. As she lifted her pencil to continue shading one side of a pear, a spot of red near the top corner of the canvas caught her eye. At first glance it might have been a drop of paint, but as she examined it closer, the droplet began to look a lot more like blood.

Alarmed, Zed glanced around the small classroom. Everyone else was calmly working on their own sketches, heads bent in concentration and hands moving fluidly across paper. The redhead who had complimented her work sat next to her, squinting in concentration at the fruit display at the front of the room. Zed blinked a few times, then turned to look back at her own sketch. She nearly fell off of her stool in shock.

The red droplet wasn't a droplet anymore—it was now a thick splatter of dark red that covered nearly the entire canvas, dripping slowly to the bottom edge. For a moment, she just sat there in shock, not knowing what to do. She blinked again and shook her head, hoping the blood would disappear. But the dark splatter just seemed to grow larger as it continued to ooze down the stark white paper. Zed hopped up and snatched the canvas off the easel, then gathered up her satchel sitting by her feet.

"Are you okay?" The redhead sitting next to her asked.

"Yeah, I'm—" Zed glanced over at the girl, but froze mid-sentence. Her eyes opened wide in shock as she noticed a deep gash in the girl's chest. Blood poured down her yellow t-shirt and puddled on the tile floor around her.

Zed gasped and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut to rid herself of the grotesque sight. The redhead continued to watch her, confused and slightly concerned. "Are you sure?" she asked.

But Zed didn't respond, or even look at the girl. Instead, she rushed out the door before anyone could question her further. She practically ran to her car, threw open the door, and tossed the blood-stained canvas into the passenger seat. She raced home with the gas pedal pressed to the floor. Tires screeched as she ran a stop sign and flew around a curve, earning her some angry yelling and horn blaring from passing motorists. But Zed hardly noticed—she had to get back to the mill house as fast as possible. At one point, she happened to glance at the canvas next to her. She stepped on the gas pedal even harder when she saw blood dripping off the paper and pooling in the passenger foot well.

.o.o.o.o.

"Listen, Corrigan," John said as he brought a glass of whiskey up to his lips and took a swig. "It sounds like you have a case here, I just don't think it's _our_ kind of case." He set the empty glass down on the coffee table in front of him, and looked across the room at the homicide detective.

Jim sighed and leaned forward in his armchair, looking the exorcist in the eye with an earnest resolve. "I don't know where else to turn," he stated. "I've got four dead girls, hearts removed, and no DNA at any of the crime scenes. This case is going to go cold if I don't get some sort of lead."

John glanced over at Chas, who was leaning against the fireplace and listening to the conversation. "I think we should at least look into it, John," he said after a momentary pause. His eyes traveled down to the assortment of crime scene photographs spread out on the coffee table. "I thought you wanted to work a case, and this one looks as promising as any."

The exorcist sighed and picked up his pack of Silk Cut from the table, looking at the photographs as he lit up a cigarette. Nothing about the murders definitively pointed to a supernatural cause. A serial killer of the human variety could easily cut out and take a victim's heart. Such a person would have to be seriously twisted, but nonetheless, it could certainly happen. It was true he was eager to get to work, but for some reason, he was reluctant to jump into another case with Corrigan.

After another length of silence, the detective stood up and walked over to the table, stooping to gather up the photographs. "Just thought I'd come by and see if you guys might know what's going on here." He slipped the pictures back into their folder and turned to look at John. "Thanks for taking a look, at least."

John opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of the door upstairs flying open and banging against the wall made him stop. There was the pounding of footsteps on the iron staircase as Zed entered the great room, breathless and wide-eyed.

"What is it?" John asked as he stood up from the sofa and walked over to her. He watched as she took a moment to catch her breath, taking in the fearful expression on her face. Zed didn't scare easily, so he knew she must have seen something serious.

Once she had collected herself, Zed slowly turned over the canvas in her hands so that John could see the blood. "What does this mean?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

John peered at the charcoal drawing in her hands, and cocked his head to the side. "Are we out of pears? Chas can run to the store, love."

"No! There's—" She turned the canvas over to look at it herself. The blood was gone. The charcoal sketch of the fruit display was there, untainted, just as she had drawn it. She looked back at John, the fear still evident in her expression. "There was blood all over this canvas, John," she insisted, looking back down at the canvas. "I saw it."

Corrigan came forward then, his brows furrowed in concern. "You had a vision?" he asked quietly.

Zed stared down at the sketch, still confused. "I—I guess so," she replied. The blood had seemed so real, and it had been there the entire time she was driving back to the mill house. She was sure of it. Now it was suddenly gone? It must have been a vision, but usually she knew when she was having one. This had seemed too real.

John sighed and took the canvas out of Zed's hands, setting off to the side. "Did you see anything else?" he asked quietly, as she stared ahead with a distant expression.

Zed blinked and then looked at John. "The girl next to me, she—" Zed paused a moment as she recalled the gruesome sight. "She was covered in blood. Her chest was sliced wide open."

John and Corrigan exchanged a glance. "Coincidence?" the detective asked.

"Told you," said Chas from where he was leaning by the fireplace. He pushed off the wall with his shoulder and headed in the direction of the hallway. "I'll start packing."

The exorcist sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then looked off to the side. He was quiet for a moment, deep in contemplation.

Zed meanwhile looked back and forth between John and the detective, and wondered suddenly why Jim was there in the first place. She hadn't seen him since the case in New Orleans involving the missing girls, and so she figured he must be back asking for their help again on another case. She also recalled the visions she'd had of Jim's death, which put her on edge.

But as Zed looked at Corrigan, she didn't see him covered in blood. For the moment, she noted with relief, the visions of him dying a gruesome death weren't coming to her. She felt relaxed and somewhat relieved to see her visions hadn't come true—at least not yet.

"It's good to see you, Zed," Corrgian spoke suddenly, offering her a gentle smile. He must have noticed her watching him.

She smiled back. "Yeah, you too." It was the truth, after all. She was glad to see him alive and well. But she also noted the familiar glint in his eyes, reminding her of the night at the bar when they had shared a kiss. Though Jim was a good friend, she couldn't bring herself to see him as anything more than that. And knowing that he was hoping for something more only made her uneasy.

"What brings you here?" Zed asked suddenly, hoping to steer the focus towards the case at hand.

Corrigan's calm gaze suddenly became very serious. "I've got four homicides. All young women, all with the hearts removed."

Zed's eyes grew wide and she looked over at John. "We need to go."

The exorcist's gaze was stern as he glanced back and forth between Zed and Corrigan. This was why he had been reluctant to take on the case. That look in Corrigan's eyes irritated him. The thing he seemed to have going on with Zed bothered him even more. And John wasn't sure why it bothered him—it was really none of his business. Still, jumping into another case with the homicide detective wasn't exactly what he wanted to do.

"Let's hunt down this heart-thieving bastard," John said after a slight pause. He would have to suck it up and work with Corrigan. At least until the case was solved.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, this is nice!" Zed exclaimed, as she marveled at the spacious, first-class cabin. She turned to look at Corrigan as he climbed up the metal steps and boarded the plane behind her. "You certainly travel in style."

Corrigan smiled as he saw the expression of wonder on Zed's face. "Working in homicide has its perks," he replied. He motioned towards a group of seats along the wall of the cabin, situated next to the round windows.

John and Chas entered the cabin then, and both paused a brief moment as they took in the luxurious atmosphere of the airplane. They observed the leather seats, a flat screen TV, and even a mini-bar near the back. The exorcist let out a sharp exhale, then looked over at Corrigan, who had slid into the seat next to Zed. "Well, so much for modesty," John huffed, as he stopped to stare at a wine rack on the far wall.

Meanwhile, Chas shouldered past the exorcist and slid into the seat opposite Zed and Corrigan, resting his elbows on the table between them. It was almost like being in a booth at a restaurant. A very sophisticated, five-star restaurant.

"Sit down, John," Chas said, as the exorcist continued to glare at the expensive Chardonnay. "We're about to take off."

The exorcist let out another sigh, then reluctantly went to sit in the seat next to Chas just as the plane began to gain speed along the runway. As he sat across from Zed and Corrigan, John suddenly caught wind of the conversation going on between the two.

"72 inches!" Corrigan was saying, as he looked intently at Zed. His arm rested casually on the back of her seat.

Zed's eyes opened wide in amazement. "That's huge!" she exclaimed. "You'll have to show me some time." She was smiling brightly at the detective, appearing legitimately invested in the conversation.

John's eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between the pair. But Zed didn't seem to notice his penetrating glare. Instead, she was fixated on the detective as he continued talking.

"It's a whole new experience watching movies on that thing, with the surround sound and high-def. I'll tell ya, there's no better way to wind down after a long day at the station."

"Ahem—" John interjected, as he continued to stare. Zed and Corrigan simultaneously looked over at the exorcist, halting their discussion of the detective's sumptuous expenditures. "Can we discuss the case, perhaps?" he asked, with no attempt to hide the irritation in his voice.

"Ah, right," said Corrigan, his face growing serious. He popped open his briefcase and pulled out the file, opening it and setting it on the table between them. "I have more pictures from the crime scenes here."

John glared at the detective a moment longer before looking down at the photos in front of him. Chas also leaned over to take a closer look. The four crime scenes were all strikingly similar—all showed a young, brunette girl, lying mangled in a pool of dark blood. The girls' heads were all turned to the side, exposing a gruesome wound in the neck. John squinted and leaned closer to get a better look at the details. "Looks like a severed carotid," he said after a moment, indicating the bloody mess on the girl's neck in the photograph.

Corrigan nodded and let out a deep sigh. "That was cause of death for all four victims," he replied. "The hearts were removed postmortem."

Zed shuddered as she pulled a different photograph from the scattered pile. This one showed a different victim, also a young brunette. Her neck was slashed in the same manner, though it was hard to see the details of the wound as the girl's hair was matted over it. "Why would someone take the hearts?" she asked, looking fearfully across the table and then back at the detective sitting next to her.

Corrigan shrugged. "Trophies, maybe? Hell if I know."

"So what caused the neck wounds?" Chas asked, without taking his eyes off the photographs. "A blade of some sort?"

The homicide detective looked uneasy for a moment, then he reached into his briefcase again and laid a manila folder on top of the scattered photos. "Medical examiner seems to think those wounds are bite marks. That's why I came to you guys for help."

"Bite marks?" Zed looked even more concerned now. "Like, human bite marks?"

Chas opened the manila folder and began thumbing through the medical examiner's notes and autopsy reports. He ran a finger over one particular line beneath a diagram of the victim's body. "Multiple bite marks on victim's neck and thorax consistent with a—"

"Dog," John stated suddenly, as he scrutinized one of the photographs in his hands. "These bite marks belong to a dog."

Chas nodded, then pointed to the notes. "Says right here, consistent with canine bite wounds."

The exorcist rolled his eyes, then glared at Corrigan. "You're asking for our help because you couldn't keep Cujo on the leash?"

Corrigan looked slightly irritated for a moment. "What kind of dog steals the victim's hearts?" he replied. "Plus, no one's seen a rapid dog on the loose." The detective leaned forward and began to gather up the other photographs into a neat pile. "My first theory was that we have a killer who owns a dog. Sicks it on his victims or something like that."

"And what was wrong with that theory?" Zed asked.

"CSU went over every inch of all four crime scenes. No dog hairs, no saliva, no canine DNA anywhere."

John let out a sigh and leaned back in the leather seat. It was strange, he couldn't deny that. But still, after going over the photos more thoroughly, there was nothing that jumped out at him as being the work of a demon or any other supernatural being. They looked like dog attacks. Vicious ones, at that, but still dog attacks. The only interesting thing was the missing hearts, but it didn't take an otherworldly entity to remove a heart. The exorcist rolled his head to the side to look at Chas. "Do we know of any dog-like creatures that eat hearts?" he asked, almost sarcastically.

Chas shrugged. "There's a lot of mythical canines in the lore," he replied. "Nothing I've ever encountered, but with what we've seen I certainly wouldn't be surprised."

The exorcist turned his head to look at Zed. "Any visions?"

Zed stared at the neat pile of photos sitting near the edge of the table. Really, all she was seeing was the blood. There was so much of it, almost to the point where it clouded her vision and she couldn't see anything else. But in the back of her mind, she thought she could hear the screams of the innocent girls as they were brutally attacked. "I can't see much, just the blood," she replied after a short silence.

John nodded, then stared ahead silently in contemplation. It was true, he'd never encountered anything like this before. He was much more accustomed to demons and spirits, not rabid dogs. And it seemed pretty certain that this wasn't the work of a demon—demons preferred to possess their victims, killing them slowly from the inside out. No, this was the work of something much different. Perhaps it was nothing more than a rabid dog. But then again, it could just as easily be something he had never seen before.

Meanwhile, Chas was still looking through the autopsy reports, which were eerily similar to each other. Cause of death for all four victims was the severed carotid artery in the neck from the dog bite. The hearts were removed from a jagged gash in the chest inflicted postmortem. The rib cages were broken and pried apart with brute force—the assailant had been powerful. All four of the girls had some defensive wounds, but it was clear they were no match for their attacker.

"Anything noteworthy?" John asked as he observed his friend.

Chas shook his head. "Not really," he replied. "But don't you find it strange—" he started, as he flipped through the pages to show John the small photographs of the girls paper-clipped to the corner of their individual autopsy reports. "These girls look a lot alike. Maybe the killer had it out for young brunettes."

"We considered that," Corrigan said, leaning forward to look intently at John and Chas. "I think it's definitely a possibility. These girls don't have much in common other than appearance. Different jobs, different hobbies. We couldn't find any other significant connection."

Chas closed the folder and handed it back to the detective. "We'll find something," he said.

John huffed, then pulled his box of cigarettes from his trench pocket. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and began to light it. "We'll help you on this case, Corrigan, but only until something more urgent comes up."

"I would say this is pretty urgent," Zed stated.

"You can't smoke in here," Corrigan said, glaring at the exorcist. But John ignored him as he took a drag of his cigarette.

"Urgent for the police," John replied around the cylinder between his lips. "In my business, urgent has a more...apocalyptic definition."

Zed turned to Corrigan. "We're going to do everything we can to help solve this case," she promised.

The detective glanced at her and smiled, but quickly reverted his gaze to the exorcist. "Put that cigarette out, John."

"Afraid your luxurious Persian carpets are gonna smell like smoke?" the exorcist asked quizzically.

Chas, who had been looking out the window, suddenly turned to John and Corrigan. "Hey, looks like we're landing!"

Corrigan glared at John a moment longer, earning a smirk from the exorcist. The airplane touched down in New Orleans, and the four of them stood up to exit the plane.

"Not a moment too soon," Zed said under her breath, sensing the tension between John and the detective. They filed down the metal steps and onto the tarmac, but Corrigan paused as his cell phone rang. He hung back by the plane to take the call as John, Zed, and Chas headed towards the gate.

"I can't believe we came all this way to hunt for a dog," John said, as he pinched his cigarette between his fingers and exhaled a puff of smoke.

"It was a one hour flight, John," Zed replied.

"Really? Felt like a lot longer."

Corrigan came running up behind them then, panting to catch his breath. John, Chas, and Zed paused and turned around to look at the detective.

"That was my lieutenant," Corrigan said after taking a few deep breaths. His expression became very grave. "A girl matching our killer's type was just reported missing."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: I am so excited that John is coming to Arrow! It's not as good as a season 2, but hey, better than nothing! Anyway, thank you for all the kind reviews so far and here is chapter 3!_

Lieutenant Mike Ambrose was a stern-faced, graying man who rarely cracked a smile. Three decades of working in homicide had worn his hair thin and etched lines around his eyes. He took his work seriously, which likely contributed to his success as the head of New Orleans homicide. But at the same time, he had little patience for dead ends and cases that left his team of detectives chasing their tails. And this most recent case was just that—there were no leads, no witnesses, nothing to follow up on to solve the brutal murders of the four young women.

Ambrose sat at his desk now, mulling over the paperwork as he prepared to brief his team on the new missing girl. She was likely the most recent victim of their killer, and he was becoming more irritable at the thought of a fifth body on his watch. This killer had to be caught, and he had to be caught _now._

The phone rang, and Ambrose groaned as he slammed his pen down on the desk and then snatched up the reciever. "Hello?" he spoke, his tone even less friendly than usual. There was a pause as the caller spoke. Then the lieutenant let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "Are you sure its her?" he asked. Another pause. "I'll send someone out there," he said before hanging up the phone with a little more force than necessary. He stood up and strode over to the office door, swinging it open just in time to see detective Corrigan exiting the elevator on the other side of the lobby.

"Hey! Corrigan!" Ambrose shouted, gesturing to the detective.

The detective, who was talking to a curly-haired brunette woman, looked up and nodded towards Ambrose. He walked over, and it was then the lieutenant noticed detective Corrigan's entourage. In addition to the brunette, there was a blonde haired man in a trench coat and a tall, bearded man wearing a newsboy cap. Ambrose narrowed his eyes at the three newcomers.

"Yes, lieutenant?" Corrigan asked as he walked up to Ambrose.

"Who're they?" the lieutenant questioned, gesturing to John, Chas, and Zed.

Corrigan glanced over at his friends as John dug around in his pocket for the playing card. After a short pause, Corrigan looked back at his boss. "They're interns," he replied casually.

"Interns?"

The detective nodded. Ambrose appeared skeptical. He looked John, Chas, and Zed over carefully. "You guys know this job ain't like the TV shows, right?"

John raised his eyebrows at the lieutenant. "No worries, chief. This isn't our first _internship_ ," he replied, his tone indicating a hint of sarcasm.

Zed shot him a glare, then turned back to lieutenant Ambrose. "We want to help with this case," she said. "We figured your team could use the extra help."

It was true, this case was making heads spin. Even the most seasoned detectives in homicide were coming up empty. Heck, a few fresh minds would probably aid in the investigation. So Ambrose just nodded, quickly dismissing the presence of the newcomers. He looked back at detective Corrigan. "Our missing girl has been found," he said. "Same as the other four. Dog bite to the neck, heart torn out."

Corrigan let out a sigh as John and Chas exchanged a glance.

"I need you and your...interns to go to the scene," Ambrose continued. "We may have some witnesses with this one."

The detective glanced back at his new interns, then turned to face his boss. "We're on it," he replied.

.o.o.o.o.

"Ugh," Chas groaned, as he looked down at the mangled body. "Good thing we opted to skip lunch."

The young woman was found in the fetal position, locked in the trunk of her car. Her clothes were torn, and she was as white as a sheet of paper. Her eyes were open, glazed and lifeless, her lips parted slightly. But what stood out the most was the blood—so much blood. It had begun to dry around the bite wound on her neck, but there was still a shallow pool of dark red that hadn't quite soaked into the carpeting of the trunk.

"Well," John said, leaning over to examine the corpse more closely. "My first impression tells me we have a vicious dog on the loose."

Corrigan raised an eyebrow at the exorcist. "A dog that locks its victims in the trunk of the car?" he asked skeptically, as he held out a pair of latex gloves.

John took the gloves and slipped them on before reaching out to brush the brunette locks away from the girl's neck so he could better examine the wound. The spacing between the puncture wounds was pretty significant, and the holes themselves were fairly large in diameter. "Must be a bloody mastiff by the looks of it."

"John, a dog didn't do this," Chas insisted.

"Then what did?" The exorcist asked.

Chas just shrugged in response. Of course, no one could answer that. A large dog may be able to inflict these wounds on someone, but it certainly couldn't lock its victims in the trunk.

Corrigan just shook his head, completely baffled. He turned to an officer standing off to the side of the murdered woman's vehicle. "Who was she?" he asked.

The officer looked up, then down at a notepad in his hands. "Danielle Sutton. Twenty-six years old. She was an accountant, went out for drinks last night with a friend." The officer motioned towards the bar off to the side of the parking lot. "The friend left early, said she never heard back from Danielle."

The detective nodded and looked back down at the lifeless body. "Get me the security tapes from that bar."

Meanwhile, Zed couldn't take her eyes off of Danielle's body. It was a horrible sight. The torn flesh on her neck was enough, but when she noticed the gaping hole in the girl's chest, Zed's hand flew over her mouth involuntarily. Bones, muscles, even the lungs—they were all visible, and it made Zed want to vomit. She stepped away from the gruesome sight to collect herself. Corrigan noticed, and he walked over to stand beside her. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Zed nodded, then looked at the detective. "She suffered," Zed spoke, her voice shaking slightly. "I can sense her pain, her fear." She squeezed her eyes shut and put a hand to her forehead. In all her life, she had never seen so much blood.

Corrigan placed a hand on her shoulder. "I can take you back to the station."

Zed looked at him and shook her head quickly. "No, I'm fine. I want to help."

The detective eyed her a moment and let out a sigh. Then he looked up at the small crowd forming behind the yellow crime scene tape. A white van with the letters WGNO on the side caught his eye, and he looked back at Zed. "I need to notify this girl's parents before the media gets wind of this," he said. "Do you want to come with?"

"I think we best not split up on this one, mate," John said as he approached Zed and Corrigan. He too had noticed Zed's discomfort. "We all can go. I'd like to have a look around this bird's place."

The detective narrowed his eyes. "We need to cover more ground," he insisted. "I need you and Chas to go talk to the people in that bar." He gestured toward the two-story brick building with neon lights in the windows and a sign that read 'Vaughan's Lounge.' "Talk to staff, bartenders, waitresses," the detective continued. "Anyone who may have seen our victim."

John opened his mouth to reply, but Chas cut him off. "He's right, John. Plus it wouldn't make sense for all of us to go on a next-of-kin notification."

The exorcist glared at his friend, then turned to look at Zed. "Can I have a word?" he asked. Before waiting for a reply, he grabbed Zed's arm and pulled her off to the side, out of earshot. She looked back at him, confused.

"Why are you so eager to run off with Corrigan?" he asked in a hushed tone, glancing nervously back at the detective.

Zed furrowed her brows and glared at John. "What do you mean? I'm just trying to help."

"Sure this isn't about your vision?"

For a moment, she just stared blankly at the exorcist. She had been so focused on the case at hand that it took her a minute to register what John was even talking about. But as he looked at her, she suddenly remembered her vision of the detective's death.

John was looking at her, waiting for a reply. When she didn't speak, he said, "You can't stop it."

"I know," she said quickly. She glanced back at Corrigan. He was talking to Chas, looking rather impatient. "I guess I just want to be there for him," she said quietly.

The exorcist followed her gaze, then looked back at Zed as she continued to watch the detective. There was a twinge in his chest as he watched her watching him, but after a brief moment, he sighed. He was outnumbered on the whole thing anyway. "Just be careful, love."

She turned to him and nodded. "I will."

.o.o.o.o.

Zed and Corrigan stepped up to the porch of the two-story home located just a few miles outside of the city. The detective rang the doorbell, then took a step back and turned to Zed.

"This is probably my least favorite part of the job," he said.

"I can imagine," she replied. "I'll let you do the talking."

There was a pause as they heard footsteps coming down a hallway. The door opened and a middle-aged man with gray hair stood there, looking at them expectantly.

"Mr. Sutton?" Corrigan said as he flashed his badge. "I'm detective Corrigan with NOPD. This is my partner, detective Martin. May we come in?"

The man looked confused for a moment, but he nodded and opened the door wider. "What can I help you with, detective?"

Zed and Corrigan stepped into the foyer, and the detective looked down a hallway that lead to the back of the house. "Is your wife home, Mr. Sutton?"

"Uh, yeah." He gestured to the living room off to the side, where a woman with dark hair sat at the couch, reading a magazine. They walked into the living room, and the woman looked up and smiled. "Kim, these are detectives from the police department," Mr. Sutton explained.

"Oh! Please, have a seat," Mrs. Sutton said quickly, gesturing to the pair of chairs across from her. Zed and Corrigan obeyed, and Mr. Sutton took a seat next to his wife on the couch. The couple looked at them expectantly. Corrigan cleared his throat.

"Your daughter, Danielle—she was reported missing by her friend this morning," the detective started.

Mrs. Sutton gasped. "Dani? Oh my God, I—" but she choked up, and couldn't say any more.

"Do you have any leads?" Mr. Sutton asked as he placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. His eyes blinked rapidly.

The detective pressed his lips into a thin line, and Zed looked away. Just listening and watching was hard enough—she couldn't imagine having to be the one to break the news. After a short pause, Corrigan spoke again. "I'm afraid we've already found her," he said.

The couple just looked back at the detective, not registering the meaning of his words. There was silence as Corrigan waited for them to understand what he was saying. But his experience with breaking this kind of news had taught him that sometimes you had to spell it out for family members, especially parents.

"I'm afraid Danielle was murdered." The detective's tone was gentle, but there was really no way to lessen the blow that he knew his words would bring.

There was a stunned silence as Zed and Corrigan waited for the words to sink in. Mr. Sutton just looked at the detective as if he was speaking a foreign language. Mrs. Sutton had a similarly bewildered expression.

Mr. Sutton finally spoke. "I think you've made a mistake, detective," he stated. "I spoke to Dani on the phone yesterday. She's fine."

"Steve—" Mrs. Sutton spoke quietly, turning to her husband.

But he ignored her and stood up to glare at Zed and Corrigan. "How could you say that to someone? I want you two out of my house." His voice was rising now, and he pointed towards the door.

"Mr. Sutton, I know this is hard—" Corrigan started.

"Out!"

Zed and Corrigan exchanged a glance. They waited a brief moment, but it appeared Mr. Sutton wasn't budging. The detective sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a card and setting it on the coffee table. "Here's my contact information. I hope you'll call me when you're ready," he said as he stood up and walked around the couch towards the front door.

Zed followed behind, all the while the Suttons never saying a word. Mr. Sutton just glared at them as they exited the living room. On her way out, Zed caught a glimpse of a family portrait hanging in the foyer by the staircase. It appeared to be a recent photo, showing Danielle and a younger brother with their parents. A knot formed in Zed's stomach, and she looked away quickly as she stepped out onto the porch behind Corrigan.

"Does that happen often?" Zed asked as she followed the detective down the steps and towards the Tahoe sitting in the driveway.

"I get kicked out of houses surprisingly often," he replied, digging in his pocket for his keys. He came to the driver's side door and opened it. "They need time to let it sink in. I don't blame them." He paused before climbing into the vehicle, noticing that Zed wasn't walking around to the passenger side. Confused, he looked back at her. She was standing on the sidewalk, frozen in place. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, staring at something near the Tahoe. "Zed?" he asked.

But she didn't reply. She couldn't move. She was staring into the eyes of a large, menacing creature. A creature with large fangs, dripping in blood. The beast was covered in black fur, but there were flecks of silver around its chest and hackles. But the most notable feature was the eyes—bright, amber-colored eyes that stared back at her with such a burning intensity, she wanted to look away. But she couldn't. Still staring, Zed raised a finger slowly and pointed at the snarling animal. "There's—there's a—" she stammered quietly, trying to find the words. The creature took a step towards her and growled.

"Zed?" Corrigan asked. He glanced to the spot where she was pointing, but saw nothing. "What do you see?" he asked, walking over to her.

She swallowed nervously, never taking her eyes off the creature. "A wolf," she replied quietly.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note: This one's kinda long, but a lot of stuff happens so it kinda has to be! As always, thank you for your kind reviews!_

John and Chas entered the hazy, dimly-lit bar. It was only four in the afternoon, so the place was relatively deserted. Though the building was rather shabby, John's initial inspection of the bar revealed two security cameras—whoever their dead girl had been talking to last night, they would find out.

As they weaved through the dining tables towards the back, a man wiping off glassware behind the counter looked up and saw them. His expression wasn't entirely friendly, and as Chas and John stopped at the bar, he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, as he continued to wipe down the glasses.

John ignored the man's irritable attitude as he dug into his trench pocket for his playing card. He held it up for the bartender to see, but the man didn't so much as glance at the fake identity. "I'm with New Orleans homicide," John started, putting away the card. He could see the man didn't really care who they were. "A young woman came in here last night. Long, dark hair. She was with a friend. Happen to see her talking to anyone?"

There was a pause as the man inspected the glassware in his hand, then turned to carefully place the glass on a shelf behind him. As he grabbed another glass, he glanced up at John. "Don't know. Don't pay attention to who comes in here," he replied curtly.

"Are you sure?" Chas asked, leaning on the bar to look the bartender in the eye. "This place seems pretty small. Surely you would remember an attractive young woman who was here just last night."

The bartender shrugged as he glanced at Chas, then back down at his cleaning. "Yeah, I remember her. Didn't pay attention to who she was with, though."

John let out an irritated sigh. Clearly this man wasn't going to be much help to them. He reached into his pocket to pull out his business card, just as the door leading to the back of the bar opened and a woman appeared behind the counter. She paused as she saw John and Chas, then looked over at the man wiping down the glasses.

"Isaac, the women's restroom needs more paper towels," she said. The bartender didn't look at her, but quickly set down the glass he'd been wiping off and disappeared behind the same door the woman had appeared from. Once he was gone, she turned to look at John and Chas. "I'm sorry about Isaac," she said. "What can I help you two with?"

John threw a glance at Chas, then looked back at the woman. Her nice clothes and silver name tag indicated that she was Hannah, the owner of Vaughan's Lounge. She wore a pleasant smile and her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

The exorcist cleared his throat. "We're with New Orleans homicide," he started. "Just wondering if you remember seeing a young woman here last night." John went on to describe the girl, who she was with, and the general time line of her arrival and departure from the bar. Hannah looked at him intently as she listened.

"I do remember her. It was crowded last night, but she was up here at the bar often," the owner stated.

"Did you see her talking to anyone?" Chas asked.

Hannah thought for a moment. "Well, she was very social. Although—" she paused as she remembered the events of the previous night. "There was one man she seemed particularly interested in. I could be wrong, but I think they left together."

John and Chas exchanged another look, and then John turned back to Hannah. "What did this man look like?"

Hannah shrugged. "Tall, black hair. I can't remember too well, but he should be on the security tapes I sent with the other officer." She went on to describe a few more people the dead woman had been seen with, but it seemed the tall, dark-haired man was their best lead. They learned that the man had flirted with Danielle all night long, offered to buy her drinks, and eventually walked her out to the parking lot.

John and Chas thanked Hannah before leaving the bar. Although this new information didn't explain the dog bites, it was still a promising lead. Now all that was left to do was identify this man.

.o.o.o.o.

"I don't understand," Corrigan said as he and Zed drove down the interstate, heading back into the bustling city. "A wolf? I mean there aren't any in the entire state of Louisiana, much less in the middle of New Orleans."

Zed stared ahead at the road, still processing what she had just seen. "It was a wolf," she stated, without peeling her eyes away from the dashed lines flying by along the pavement. "I'm sure of it."

"Maybe one escaped from the zoo," the detective mused, glancing over at Zed. He waited for her to say something, but she remained quiet. "I guess that doesn't explain how Danielle ended up locked in the trunk of her car," he said after a short silence, more to himself than to Zed.

They drove on for a while, neither saying a word. Zed was deep in thought, trying to make a connection between the wolf and the dead women. A wolf would explain the bite marks on the victims' necks, but the fact that an animal not even native to Louisiana was viciously murdering brunettes and eating their hearts was yet another perplexing enigma. Then again, perhaps this wasn't an ordinary wolf. Zed knew of plenty of myths involving the creatures, from the story of Romulus and Remus, all the way to Little Red Riding Hood. But a new thought suddenly dawned on her, and she turned to look at detective Corrigan.

"A werewolf?" she asked suddenly. It felt strange to even say it, but at this point any idea was better than no idea. Besides, if demons and spirits could exist, why not werewolves?

Corrigan shot her a confused look before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "That's insane," he said finally.

There was a pause, and Zed let out a sigh. It _was_ insane. But this whole case didn't make much sense, and she was out of ideas.

"So insane, it might just be worth looking into," Corrigan continued after contemplating it for a moment.

Zed looked at him and nodded. She couldn't wait to hear what John would say about such a theory.

They drove on in silence for a while, until Corrigan pulled the Tahoe into the back entrance of the police station. He switched off the engine, and then looked at Zed as she reached for the door handle. "Can I ask you something?" the detective asked suddenly.

Zed paused with her hand on the door. "Sure," she replied, noting the hesitant tone in Corrigan's voice.

"Are you and John together?"

The question caught her off guard, and she looked back at the detective blankly. It took her a moment to grasp what he was implying. "Together?" she asked after a slight pause. "We work together I suppose, if that's what you mean."

Corrigan just laughed and shook his head. "I didn't think so," he said. "But he seems to get angry whenever I'm around you, so I just thought I'd ask."

"I never noticed that," Zed replied with a chuckle. "I think that's just how John is. He's always angry." And it was mostly true—John always seemed a little on the irritated side, especially when they were working on a particularly difficult case. But now that Corrigan mentioned it, perhaps he _did_ act a little more indignant whenever the detective was around. Although, she had never thought anything of it. That's just how John was, and she was pretty much used to it at this point.

Corrigan looked at Zed and smiled. "Well I'm glad that's cleared up."

Once again, Zed recognized the longing expression in the detective's eyes. His calm gaze never strayed from her face, and she could suddenly feel the blood rushing into her cheeks. Her heart went out to the man as she recalled seeing him dead, knowing his untimely end was inevitable. Jim was so kind to her—it was difficult coming to terms with the reality of his bloody fate. And so when the detective leaned in and their lips met, it was guilt, not attraction, that prompted her to return the kiss.

.o.o.o.o.

"Hey! Interns!" Lieutenant Ambrose shouted when he saw John and Chas emerge from the elevator. They began to walk across the lobby, and Ambrose strode over to meet them halfway. As he approached them, he held out a pair of DVD cases.

John looked at the cases, then glared up at the lieutenant. "Those the tapes from Vaughan's?" he asked.

"What the hell do you think they are?" Ambrose shoved the cases into the exorcist's hands. "I had my techs review them, but you two need to make sure they didn't miss anything. Told you this job ain't all about the glamour. Now get to watching. No one stands around in my department."

Chas had to stifle a laugh as he watched John flinch beneath the lieutenant's diatribe. Had they not been in the police station, the exorcist probably would have run his mouth right back at Ambrose. But knowing they had more important things to accomplish, John quietly took the DVDs from the lieutenant and walked away, grumbling under his breath. Ambrose rushed off, barking orders at other detectives.

At the nearest computers, John and Chas each took a disc and began scrutinizing the footage from the security cameras. It wasn't hard to find their victim—Danielle wore a provocative mini dress, the same one she was wearing when she was found in the trunk of her car. She arrived at Vaughan's with her friend a little after 10:00 p.m., and soon she and the other girl drifted apart and began mingling with other patrons.

John watched closely as Danielle stood at the bar and talked to the bartenders. She had a few drinks, and it wasn't long before the mysterious man approached her. He was just as Hannah had described—tall, dark hair, dressed nicely.

"Are those the security tapes from Vaughan's?" A voice asked from over the exorcist's shoulder.

John glanced behind his back to see Corrigan standing there, along with Zed. He happened to catch a glimpse of her preoccupied expression, but quickly dismissed it and refocused his attention to the security footage as Zed and the detective watched from behind him. It wasn't until two o'clock in the morning that Danielle finally left with the stranger. They exited the bar, walking in the direction of the parking lot where the young woman was ultimately found.

"Well, he certainly seems to be a person of great interest," John stated, as Danielle and the man exited the frame. He turned to look at Corrigan. "Doesn't explain the dog bites, but he's worth looking into."

"Can you run some sort of facial recognition on this guy?" Chas asked.

The detective continued to stare at the screen a moment longer. As he opened his mouth to speak, Lieutenant Ambrose suddenly appeared next to them wearing his usual frown. "Already on it," he said. "Forensics is running biometrics and facial-rec on all the men Danielle was seen talking to."

"What about the man she left with?" Corrigan asked.

"Glad you asked, Corrigan!" the lieutenant exclaimed, although his enthusiastic tone was laden with sarcasm. He produced a sheet of paper from a folder pinned beneath his arm and handed it to the detective. "This guy's got shady written all over his record. Name's Antonio Ruiz, and he's got a record a mile long." Ambrose opened up his folder to peer at the papers inside. "Assault, attempted robbery, possession of narcotics." He slapped the folder closed and looked at Corrigan. "I need you and your interns to go to his address for questioning."

The detective looked over at John and Chas, who nodded in agreement. After receiving additional information on Ruiz's history and last known address, the four of them piled into the Tahoe and headed for the apartment buildings to question their person of interest.

.o.o.o.o.

"Suppose this Antonio fellow has a dog?" John asked, as they drove through the busy streets towards the west side of town. He lit up a cigarette and exhaled a thick puff of smoke, earning a sideways glare from Corrigan.

"I'd bet money on it," Chas replied.

There was silence as Zed looked out the window, trying to decide how to explain her vision to John and Chas. Since meeting John, she'd grown accustomed to battling ghosts and demons. But werewolves? It sounded bizarre to her, but as John liked to say—the visions never lie. "I saw a wolf," she spoke suddenly.

The exorcist's eyes traveled up to the rear view mirror so he could look at her. "A what?"

" _El lobo,_ " she insisted. "A wolf."

John continued to stare at her through the mirror as Chas looked back and forth between the two. After a moment, the exorcist took a drag of his cigarette and turned to stare out the window. "Could be a wolf attack I suppose."

"There's no wolves in Louisiana," Zed continued. She took a deep breath. "Do...werewolves exist?"

Now there was an even longer silence. John continued to look out the window, and Chas wore a perplexed expression. Truthfully, neither of them knew how to answer that question. They'd never encountered such a creature, but that didn't mean they didn't exist. Plus, with the rising darkness upon them, it seemed even more likely that new entities from the underworld could now cross the barrier between Hell and Earth.

"Let's follow up on this lead first," John finally replied.

A few minutes later, Corrigan parked the Tahoe in front of the tall, brick apartment building where Antonio Ruiz lived. The detective cocked and holstered his pistol, then nodded towards the main entrance. "I'll go first," he said.

The detective led the way up the stairs, followed by John, Chas, and then Zed. They came to a halt on the fifth floor next to apartment 504, and Corrigan rapped on the door. "NOPD, open up!" he shouted.

They waited. There was no response, and no sound coming from inside the apartment. Corrigan knocked again.

After another moment passed with no response, John shrugged off his trench coat. "Screw this, I'm going in," he stated.

"Stop," Corrigan insisted, holding out a hand.

"Something doesn't seem right," Zed spoke suddenly.

The detective knocked on the door one last time, harder than before. "NOPD! Open up or we're coming in!" He drew his pistol at the ready.

Zed turned to John, who was looking impatient as he stared at the door. "If Antonio got away with killing all these women, why would he make the mistake of showing his face on camera?" she asked.

John looked at her and opened his mouth to reply, but Corrigan spoke up before he could respond. "Go ahead," he directed.

With a forceful and well-placed kick to the lock, there was a splintering of wood and the door swung open to reveal the small studio apartment. The detective rushed in first, aiming his pistol straight ahead. But a few steps into the room, Corrigan froze and lowered his firearm. John, Chas, and Zed followed suit as their eyes were met with the gruesome sight of Antonio Ruiz's lifeless body. There was blood splattered everywhere—the floors, the walls, and even the ceiling. The dead man's throat was punctured, and his chest was pried open to reveal a hole where his heart should have been.


End file.
